


How(e) Long Has This Gone On

by Ywain Penbrydd (penbrydd)



Series: A Comedy of Assholes (Rhapsody, etc.) [5]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Nate's a good loser, Non-Explicit Sex, Sparring, graphic descriptions of throwing actual mud, implied pegging, teenagers in love, the Antivan Kama Sutra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-22 12:06:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8285297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penbrydd/pseuds/Ywain%20Penbrydd
Summary: In theory, Nathaniel's meant to learn swordsmanship, marry Elissa Cousland, and become the Arl of Amaranthine. At least, that's what he's expected to do. But, mostly, Elissa lays him out on the practise field and laughs hysterically at his misfortune -- until they get a little older and she finds other things to do with her wins.





	1. Chapter 1

She was thirteen, and he was a year older. They'd been at each other in sparring matches since they were children, but this was the first year they didn't have to have one of the guardsmen watching them. They could finally just get the wooden daggers and go at each other in the courtyard. His father still wanted him to take up the sword, like a nobleman should, but he could just barely find his way around a shorter blade. The longer ones just threw his balance off entirely. Still, when they were at home, he had an instructor, and he practised every day. One day, maybe, he'd be good enough to knock Fergus on his ass. One day maybe he'd be good enough not to get knocked on his ass by Elissa, which was what he was concentrating on right now.

She lunged, far faster than anyone who didn't know her would've expected, bringing one dagger up to go under his ribs. That one he caught, one of his daggers shielding his arm, as he swatted her hand to the side. He brought the other one up, thinking to put it under her chin, but her other fist, with the backhand dagger in it, slammed into his gut, just before she kneed him in the face. He sprawled back, coughing as he slammed into the grass.

Elissa dropped on top of him, pinning him with one hand on his wrists and a knee under his ribs. "Well, I've won again!" She smiled down at Nathaniel, as he continued to wheeze. "What do I want, this time? Oh! How about another kiss?" Leaning down, she planted one on his lips.

"Just one kiss?" Nathaniel attempted to smile wryly, but his brains were still a little scrambled. "I must be good for more than that." He coughed again. "Maker, but I'm dizzy. I think you almost knocked my eye out the back of my head."

"Well, maybe two kisses." Elissa laughed and leaned forward, her grip on Nathaniel's wrists loosening.

He wrenched himself free and headbutted her in the nose, but even as the blood sprayed across his face, Elissa brought up the hand still holding her dagger and slammed the pommel into the side of Nathaniel's head.

* * *

 

"... Nathaniel?" That wasn't Elissa's voice, and Nathaniel suddenly realised the sun was beating straight down on him.

"Hnngh?" It was more of a whine than a coherent word. "... the shit...?" He blinked until he could focus on the Chantry sister leaning over him. "Sister."

The sister looked faintly amused. Behind her, another face appeared, this one obscured by the gleam off his armour. 

"If it makes you feel any better, you broke her nose. She told me all about it. That was a good one, Howe. Wasn't expecting it from you." The guard laughed.

"She's okay?" Nathaniel asked, as the sister held a healing potion to his lips.

"She's great," the guard assured him, as he drank. "Plotting her revenge already."

Nathaniel groaned. "Knocking me out wasn't enough?"

"Shit no, kid. You know her. She wants a clean victory and you fucked that all up. Congrats, by the way. Haven't seen you get one up on her in years. I just wish I'd been here to see it." The guard grinned.

The potion worked its way through his system, and Nathaniel started to feel less like he'd been trampled by a horse. "Next time, maybe you'll get lucky. Next time, maybe I'll get lucky."

* * *

* * *

He didn't get lucky, the next time, or the time after that, or the time a year later when she knocked him flat and knelt on his wrists. But, that time, he looked up at her, dazed, her hair glittering in the sun where his eyes wouldn't focus, and felt a fluttering in his chest to go with the fluttering in his loins.

"I love you," he sighed, looking up at the beautiful girl above him.

"I can probably fix that, you know," Elissa said, with a teasing smile, picking up a handful of mud, from where they'd trampled the rain into the ground.

"What?" Nathaniel's eyes widened, darting to one hand and then the other. "No no no no no no n--" He closed his eyes and mouth just fast enough to avoid getting mud in them as she slapped it onto his face.

Laughing, she finally let him up.

Nathaniel wiped his face, quietly, for a moment, before he felt safe opening his mouth. "Didn't work," he muttered, scraping off enough mud to open an eye. He looked up at her, blinking away the sludge. "Still love you."

"I could try again," Elissa offered, bending down for more mud.

"No!" Nathaniel yelped, bringing his hand up to cover his face as he dodged the incoming mud. Projectiles, he was good at, but not good enough to return fire with mud still in his eye.

* * *

* * *

Later in the year, she came to visit for All Souls, and he was ready for her. The rains had been light, as they were near the end of summer, but he drew buckets and muddied the courtyard in a few places. When she returned with the daggers, he was all smiles.

"One of these days," he told her, and she laughed.

"You say that every time, Nate. Come on."

As soon as she lunged, he ran, instead of fighting back. She was after him in a flash, but he swung up into a tree and leapt to another, losing a bit of ground as she kept after him at ground level. They both knew he'd run out of trees and have to come down eventually. And then he turned, suddenly, stepping backward off a branch and hurling one of his daggers. The wooden blade bounced off her chest with just enough force that she slipped in the mud and sat down hard. He was on her in an instant.

"Told you," he taunted, knees pinning her hands to the ground.

"Cheater," Elissa declared, shifting to headbutt him, but not getting enough momentum before he leaned out of the way.

"Oh, I win! I win," Nathaniel sang, and the guards on the parapet cheered and whistled. "Now, what do I want? How about three kisses? You always stop at two. I should get an extra. I finally beat you."

"And it's the only time that's ever going to happen." Elissa smiled sweetly.

Nathaniel clutched her hair in his free hand, to hold off the next headbutt as he leaned in for the first kiss. "Don't count on it. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, but it also makes my aim get better."

"I'm gonna tear your ass off, Nathaniel, and there's nothing you can do about it." Elissa tipped her chin up for the next kiss, and Nathaniel was quick to take advantage.

"You just set me all aflutter, when you say things like that," Nathaniel whispered, eyes dark with lust, as he brought up his other hand and slammed mud into Elissa's face. "Third kiss!" he shouted, grabbing his daggers and leaping to his feet, just barely avoiding the foot that followed, aimed at his crotch.

"You _shit_!" Elissa roared, spitting mud and leaping to her feet to chase after him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elissa introduces Nathaniel to a book of Antivan excesses. Despite himself, Nathaniel enjoys it greatly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a lot of fade-to-black and implications of smut.

When he was seventeen, she showed him the book from Antiva, heavily illustrated with things he could hardly interpret, not least because those words weren't the ones he knew of Antivan. But, the basic intent seemed clear enough, even if he couldn't quite interpret all the contortions.

"For when I win," Elissa said, smiling.

Nathaniel nearly dropped the book. It wasn't that they hadn't lain together -- he sucked at his lip thinking of that hour before breakfast, when she encouraged him to eat dessert first. Definitely his favourite part of the days they spent together, but that wasn't acrobatic Antivan excess! "You're sure this is even possible?" he asked, tilting the book and cocking his head at it. "I mean, do backs even bend like that?"

"I think we should find out." Elissa poked him under the ribs with the pommel of a practise dagger.

"Where did you even get this?" Nathaniel kept flipping through the pages. "Do they sell the like down in the city, or did it come in through Denerim?"

"You forget my mother was a raider, when she was our age. She's got a trunk of her favourite things from when she ransacked Orlesian ships." Elissa grinned and nuzzled Nathaniel's cheek. "I bet it was headed for Halamshiral from Antiva City or Rialto."

"This is your mother's?!" For the second time, he nearly dropped the book, this time fumbling it into Elissa's hands. "That... really doesn't make me feel any better about it," he said, wiping his hands on his trousers.

"Well, if it's in the trunk, she's not using it!" Elissa laughed and flipped through the pages. "Oh, what about this one? This one looks interesting!"

Nathaniel squinted at the illustration. "I think that's two women," he said, after a moment's study.

"We can improvise. You're flexible." Elissa elbowed him.

"Not there, I'm not!" Nathaniel protested, looking at her in horror.

"Oh, please, Nate." Elissa rolled her eyes. "Have I ever hurt you?"

"Let me count the ways," he drawled.

She huffed. "In bed."

He rolled his eyes back. "Fine. Not in bed. And not when I hadn't any clothes on. But, just about every other time and place in this castle!"

"And I'm not going to _in bed_ , this time, either." Elissa nudged him. "Three rounds. Winner picks a page from the book for each round. That way you might get one, if you're lucky."

"Does it have to be from the book?" Nathaniel groaned, uncertain how many of those positions were just Antivan jokes at the expense of Orlais.

"Come on, it'll be fun!"

"I'm not sure how much fun I'm going to be if you punch me in the crotch again," Nathaniel muttered. "And I can think of plenty of fun things that don't involve turning me into Alamarri knotwork."

* * *

He lost, of course. All three rounds. And the images from those pages tormented him the rest of the day. How was he going to bend like that? He was sure most of those must've involved some extra ropes or bars or something, because they didn't look like the kinds of things a person should be able to do, if they weren't an acrobat or an incredibly talented mage. He chewed at the callus on the side of his thumb, as he tried to sit through a history lesson -- he was on holiday, of course, but if he was going to be the Arl of Amaranthne, he supposed he ought to know these things. Unfortunately, he couldn't concentrate at all. Every time Aldous asked a question, he blinked guiltily and tried to bring his mind back to the matter at hand.

Finally, he excused himself from the group of squires and young servants, claiming he'd been struck much too hard in the head, during practise. It was certainly one word for it.

  
He wandered the halls of the castle, chewing at his thumb and tugging at the hem of his jacket, wishing he could read more Antivan. Maybe the descriptions were less terrifying than the images. Maybe that hadn't actually been an entire forearm and maybe those chains were symbolic of some sort of motion. He comforted himself with the thought that she hadn't picked any of the really distressing ones. Nothing quite _simple_ , but nothing involving an entire forearm in places he was relatively certain those did not go.  


She caught him lingering by the armoury, debating another round, one that in his dreams, he might win.

"You look a bit shit, Nate," Elissa said, slipping an arm around his waist. "I didn't break any of your ribs, did I?"

Nathaniel laughed. "Not yet, but if you keep on with that book, like you mean to..."

"Oh, come on, it's not that scary. You just can't read Antivan." A smile crept across Elissa's face. "Come on, then. I'll read it to you. You'll see."

"You'll read it to me, will you?" Nathaniel scoffed, his eyebrow arcing up as he tucked his arm behind Elissa's and around her waist. "Will you do the voices and everything?"

"If it'll get your trousers off faster, you know I will." Elissa laughed uproariously, startling a passing servant, who shot them a curious look, but kept walking.

"You just have no appreciation of me with my clothes on!" Nathaniel huffed and glared sulkily down the path, for as long as he could manage, which was only a few seconds. "I've even put on the nicest thing my father won't have my head for wearing outside a state dinner! But, no! Oh, no, Lady Someday-to-be Teyrna wants it on the floor next to her bed!"

"You say that like it's a bad thing!" Elissa laughed again, rising onto her toes a bit to land a kiss on Nathaniel's cheek. "Besides, I like it when you put on the nice things. They're that much more fun to take off you."

"Maker's ass." Nathaniel pressed his free hand across his eyes. "If I die in your bed, I'd best not find that fact written on my monument."

"If you die, you'll never know what's on your monument," Elissa pointed out, winking. "Besides, we've been over this. You're not going to die of it. It's going to be fun!"

Nathaniel sighed, dramatically. "Fine, fine, read me your Antivan book and we'll see how fast my trousers come off, but don't be surprised if the buttons crawl up and attach themselves to my eyebrows, never to be opened again."

* * *

Hours later, Nathaniel lay sore and panting, soaked in sweat, across Elissa's tangled sheets. "Okay. You were right. That was fun." He groaned and twisted to look up at Elissa, over his shoulder. "But, if you keep that up, I'm going to run you out of healing potions."

"You know my mum buys extras when you're due in. It's so it won't be serious, if I break your jaw." Elissa laughed and stretched for the last bottle on the nightstand, eliciting another groan from Nathaniel.

"Get off me, or I'll end up pouring it all over the bed and rubbing my face in it," Nathaniel muttered, extracting himself from under Elissa and hissing as he rolled over and sat up. He held out his hand expectantly, teeth gritted.

Elissa handed him the potion and stroked his face. "Thought you said you had fun. That doesn't look like fun."

"It was incredible. Then I moved." Nathaniel guzzled the potion and sprawled across the pillows at the top of the bed, waiting for the healing to take hold. "I don't know if I'll ever sit again. How big is that thing?"

"Same as you, more or less." Elissa looked terribly amused as she tugged at Nathaniel's hand, wrapping it around the sticky-slick polished wood.

He groaned, pitifully. "I'm going to die in your bed, and I'm going to like it."

"Well, really, Nathaniel, could you ask for a better death?" Elissa laughed and unfastened a few straps before curling up beside Nathaniel and dragging the blanket over them both.

"No, probably not," he admitted, after a moment, tossing an arm across Elissa's broad shoulder.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A proposal goes well, better than expected, from some quarters, but Nathaniel makes a mistake that costs him dearly.

It was the night he was to propose -- a state event, carefully choreographed to the last word, and Nathaniel was bored out of his mind. Around him sat his family, his father occasionally glaring over the table at him. It should've been Delilah, he thought, but Fergus was much too old for her and already promised to an Antivan girl. He would've been old enough for Fergus, but the two of them loathed each other and wouldn't have been able to come out with any heirs, and so it was a matter of marrying him -- the least favoured, but oldest child -- to the second daughter of the third most powerful family in Ferelden. Fortunately, he liked her, and left to his own devices, he'd have done it anyway. But, on his terms.

The minstrel by the Teyrn's table finally stopped playing, and Nathaniel realised he could do this on his terms -- and frankly, that the Couslands would probably find it a great deal more charming than his own father would. He leapt to his feet and whistled loudly, tearing off the brooch emblazoned with his family crest that held his jacket closed.

When Elissa looked up, he tossed it to her, clearing three tables before she could snatch it out of the air. "Elissa Cousland, most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on, including my own blessed mother, I cannot spend another day without you by my side. Marry me, my love, or I shall be forced by my disgrace to run away to Val Chevin and throw myself on a chevalier's sword."

Eleanor sat watching the young fool propose to her daughter, one hand clapped over her mouth to keep from laughing madly. She'd known he would -- it had been intended nearly since Elissa was born -- but, she'd expected the fathers to have their way. She'd expected young Master Howe to be dragged along with his father's intentions, sulking the whole way through, but this? This was genuinely excellent. She looked forward to the day he would be Arl of Amaranthine, if he'd take a chance like this.

"Why, Nathaniel! I didn't think you were interested in swords or in chevaliers!" Elissa clasped the brooch to her chest and fluttered her eyelashes, struggling as her mother was, not to laugh, as a snicker spread through the room. "Never fear, my darling. I'll save you from such a dreadfully Orlesian fate." She rose up, at last, as her mother held her father in his seat. "Friends, give your regards to my darling Nathaniel, soon to ascend to a seat with the Couslands!"

"They're all laughing at us," Rendon hissed at his son. "Why can't you ever do as you're told? At least pretend you're my son!"

Nathaniel's chin tipped up as the applause started, and he answered his father when he bowed, to keep the motion of his lips out of the public eye. "Because she deserves better."

Rendon's jaw locked and it looked as if his eyes might leap out of his head.

Eleanor stood and put an arm around her daughter, and after a little nudging, Bryce moved to her other side. "Come up here, Nathaniel," Eleanor called out, over the noise of the hall. "Don't think we're going to let you sit down there until the wedding. It's a celebration!"

The extra place had already been set next to Elissa. This was part of the plan, for the evening, and Eleanor was doing an excellent job ad-libbing, as Nathaniel had known she would. He picked up his wine and made his way up to the Couslands' table, at the head of the room.

"Sorry," he muttered, taking his seat after some more cheering and an official kiss from Elissa. "If I had to listen to my sister make one more joke about asses' asses, I was going to strangle her."

"That was completely ridiculous!" Eleanor told him, eyes still sparkling as she held out her glass for more wine. "If Bryce had tried something like that, I'd have married him much sooner!"

"I did try something like that," Bryce protested. "You threatened to cut off my arm and feed it to the sea serpents!"

"Yes, but we were on a warship, at the time. I had to save you from an Orlesian with a handaxe, because you weren't paying attention."

Nathaniel's eyes drifted to the side. "Are they serious?" he asked Elissa, quietly.

"You should hear the stories they tell," she whispered back. "You _have_ heard the stories."

"I thought your father was making things up!" Nathaniel hissed.

" _My_ dad? Nathaniel, you know better."

His own father continued to glare up at the high table through the rest of the evening, and Nathaniel knew he was in for it, when he got home.

* * *

After the lecture on family, politics, and the air of nobility, Nathaniel had assumed his father was done -- for the moment, anyway. There would no doubt be another lecture about him not holding his fork in the same way as his sister or a complaint that his face was a disgrace to his father's name. But, those were intermittent and perpetual, and he'd deal with them when they came.

What he hadn't expected, riding back after a weekend hunting in the Wending Wood, was to find his things packed and half shipped down to the dock.

"Tired of my face? Sending me off to the Couslands so soon?" he asked, insouciantly leaning in the doorway of his father's study.

"You wish I would send you back to them, to make more of a fool of us." Rendon slammed shut the book he was reading and stood. "Your mother and I have decided you'll be spending ten years in Starkhaven, studying with Ser Rodolphe, your mother's cousin. Hopefully, he'll be able to teach you some manners."

For the first time in many years, Nathaniel actually felt fear. "Ten years? That's a squire's term. I'm a grown man, as you might not have noticed."

"And now you'll be a squire for a decade, in the hopes it will impart the common sense your mother and I have clearly failed to. And possibly a broken nose to hide your bastardy, which is the least your mother's family can give us after she gave me you."

"Mother has imparted quite a bit of common sense to me, not least that you're quite mad, and I am, to my lasting misfortune, actually your son," Nathaniel grabbed the door and slammed it, as he turned and ran down the hall. He had to get to Highever.

His horse wasn't ready, when he reached the stables, and it wouldn't be, since he'd just come back with her, and he grabbed the nearest horse that looked fit to make the ride and demanded the stablehands saddle it. Pushing the horse a little harder than might have been wise, he made his way to Castle Cousland in a day. The servants presented him, muddy, wet, and shaking from the ride, to Elissa, and they hung back, to ensure she would come to no harm with him in such shape.

"Marry me," he sputtered. "Now. Please."

"What? Nathaniel, what's happened? You look like ... I don't know what you look like. Was it bandits? Do we need to increase the patrols?"

"No, I..." Nathaniel looked at himself. He hadn't changed after coming in from the hunt, as most of his clothing had already been boxed, and he couldn't figure out which boxes or whether they were still in the building. "I've been sent away. Everything's in boxes. I don't know what's gone to the docks or what he's burned out of spite, but I've no clean clothes and that's not my horse I rode in on. Ten years in Starkhaven."

" _Ten_?" Elissa's eyes were wide and round. "He arranges for you to marry me and then has you sent over the sea for _ten years_? In whose mind does that make sense? It's political suicide!"

"For me, not him," Nathaniel realised, after a moment.

"And what unfathomable reason would you have to remain in Starkhaven for ten years? What could he possibly be offering to make that seem like a reasonable decision?" Elissa scoffed, taking Nathaniel's hand and leading him out toward Fergus's room. "My brother may not like you, but he sacrifices more shirts to lesser causes in a year. We'll put you in something clean, at least."

"Thank you." Nathaniel remained strangely silent for most of the walk across the castle. "I've been contracted as a squire," he finally admitted.

Elissa's back straightened, suddenly. "He's _what_? I'll have his arldom for _myself_."

"Please don't, darling. My mother still lives there. I _like_ my mother."

"Your mother can stay, once I hang your father's head from the battlements," Elissa grumbled, pounding at her brother's door. "Fergus, open the bloody door, I need your help."

The door finally opened on Fergus looking dishevelled and outraged, his trousers hanging open under the long edge of his tunic. "Andraste's love, _what_? What is so important?" His eyes shifted to the other figure standing a bit behind his sister. "And why are you covered in mud? Is this another of those kinky fighting things you two do?"

"I haven't slept in two days and I fell off my horse," Nathaniel muttered, crossing his arms and looking at anything but Fergus.

"He also has no clothes. I was hoping you'd find it in your tiny, blackened heart to spot him a nightshirt or something, while I have his clothes cleaned." Elissa rolled her eyes at Fergus.

"Something's happened, then. Has Orlais made a move on Amaranthine, by sea?" Fergus looked confused, but much more likely to help, darting into his room to pick through a chest. The door swung open the rest of the way to reveal a shadow sitting behind the closed curtain of his bed.

"No, Rendon's an idiot is all," Elissa sighed. "He's given Nathaniel as a squire in the Marches."

"The man's twenty, if he's a day." Fergus blinked over his shoulder.

"Yes, we'd noticed." Elissa stepped in and snatched the clean nightshirt from her brother's hand. "I'm thinking of sacking the keep. What do you think? Would I make a good arlessa?"

"You'd be utterly terrifying," Fergus assured her. "Just like mum."

" _Please_ do not sack my father's keep," Nathaniel protested, again. "My mother is there? And my sister and brother?"

"You know I'd never harm your family," Elissa replied, clutching the nightshirt to her chest as her brother shooed her out of the room.

"Except my father," Nathaniel retorted.

"Who doesn't think he's your father anyway, so it hardly counts."

"Tell me in the morning if I've got to ride into battle to avenge your honour, Liss," Fergus drawled, closing the door on them.

* * *

Nathaniel was halfway through his bath when Elissa's next idea was born.

"Well, I'm not to be Teyrna, and you're effectively disowned. Run away with me! We can go south to Redcliffe or north to Antiva. You can't tell me you wouldn't love a holiday in Antiva." Elissa worked the mud out of the back of Nathaniel's hair, as she talked.

"A _holiday_ in Antiva. Not a lifetime. I'm as Fereldan as Ferelden gets." Nathaniel slid down and ducked the back of his head into the water, hoping most of the mud would run off. "It's... It's ten years. And it's only ten if he can keep me there for all of them. And I don't think he can." Sitting up, he shook the water out of his ears. "It's why I want to marry you before I go. I can say I've left a wife at home -- a married man as a squire? The politics of it would be horrifying."

"Except the contract's already signed in your father's hand, and you can't marry while you're a squire. It's too late to try that." Elissa sighed and leaned in for a kiss. "You know what he meant this to look like, don't you? He's set us up. He means it to look like you've abandoned me and fled to the Marches. Like you can't be trusted to handle yourself. He's setting up your sister to inherit."

"I'd have given it to her!" Nathaniel's irate shrug slopped water onto the floor. "He's made sure she and Thomas have had all the necessary instruction to actually manage it, but me? Ever since he started to think I might not be his, it's been lessons in 'noble pursuits' like hunting and dancing, but not the essentials. He's been setting me up to fail for years! And I'd have done it gracefully! He was marrying me off in the hope of removing me from the line of succession! Gracefully!"

"Now you're going to look like a shit, and he's going to look like a shit for letting you get away with it, but I think my parents can make the best of this. You do mean to come back to me, don't you?" Elissa smirked.

"What kind of idiot question is that? I don't want to leave you in the first place!"

"Then all we need to do is ensure that point is clear. You haven't run away from the marriage -- which anyone who was there for the proposal would strongly doubt, anyway -- you've gone off to learn new skills and make important political connections."

"As. A squire." Nathaniel's eyebrows arced up.

"A desire to work your way up from the bottom. To know the struggles of your people." Elissa went in for another kiss. "Trust me. It's brilliant. And when you're done, you come back, and we get married, and up your father's rotting ass with what he thinks of it. It's his fault, anyway. He's been planning that wedding from the day I was born."

"It's not his fault I fell in love with you." Nathaniel tipped his head back to look up at Elissa. "It's yours."

"I'm more than happy to accept all the blame for that. It is entirely my fault, because I am amazing." Elissa smiled and tugged at Nathaniel's hair. "Come on, out of the water before your ass gets muddy sitting in it. Out on the balcony and a bucket over your head, before you try to dry off."

* * *

"Ten years..." Nathaniel sighed, curled up against Elissa's side. "I won't let it be, you know. I'll do everything I can to come home sooner. You'll visit, won't you? It could be diplomatic! I'm to be serving at the Court of Starkhaven, mostly, I think."

"I'll do what I can, but you know how mum is about her children crossing the Waking Sea..." Elissa sighed and pulled Nathaniel closer. "I'll write. Just tell me where to send things. And I'll marry no other while I wait. I'll be here, when you come home."

"How long would I have to disappear, before this just goes away? I mean, can I spend a few years in the Frostbacks, until the contract goes void and then come back?"

"It's not going to go away. It'll be worse if you don't face it and break it. You know how it is -- cowardice and no strength to lead. And then mum's going to say I can't marry you, and it'll be terrible." Elissa sighed and squeezed Nathaniel's bottom. "Of course, I'd still keep you as my paramour. Couldn't go on without you to keep me from stabbing whatever poor idiot I'd have to marry instead."

"Won't come to that. I'm coming back, Elissa. I promise." Nathaniel rolled over, propping himself above Elissa. "You'll have the wedding we dreamed of, and everything after."

"Mmm." Elissa smiled up at him. "How about one more taste, before you go?"


End file.
